


Monkey Business

by misura



Category: Rock of Ages (2012)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendship in five stages, and a break-up in one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monkey Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joanne_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_c/gifts).



.01

"Paul," Stacee said. "Paul, Paul, Paul."

"No," Paul said. "No elephant."

"Mammoth. They're - " Stacee thought. His head hurt, as it tended to do when Paul was acting like an uninspired little man who had no idea what it was like to be blessed with a divine talent. " - woolier."

"Tell ya what," Paul said. "How about a monkey?"

 

.02

"We cut down his tree," Stacee said. Hey Man bared his teeth at the cameraman. "We killed his family."

"People," Paul said quickly. " _Other_ people. Not us, personally." Paul was a coward.

"I think we got a - a _responsibility_ ," Stacee went on. "To Hey Man, and to all the others like him. The innocent victims of mankind's depravity. Do you feel that, too ... Jim?"

"John," Jim said. "And I - "

Stacee raised his hand. "No."

"No?"

"You're Jim," Stacee said. "It's ... your face. Your clothes. Jim. Definitely. Anyway, as I was saying, I want to make a statement here. About the ... the _environment_. Nature. We should respect nature, Jim. Know why?"

"I - "

"Because Mother Nature is the biggest bitch there is, and if we don't respect that, if we keep pissing her off with our bullshit, she's going to get pissed. Whole planet's just going to - whoosh! You feel what I'm getting at here, Jim?"

"You - "

Stacee snapped his fingers. One of his bodyguards (the cute one) handed him a fresh bottle of bourbon. "Naw, I'm just kidding. Truth is ... truth. Shiny. A glorious light."

"I think we're about done here," Paul said. "Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you very much."

 

.03

Stacee stared at the monkey. It was in his room, _ergo_ it was supposed to be in his room.

"Are you - " Two bodyguards right outside the door: best to play this one safe. "Are you here to _kill_ me? Like a, a _hitman_?"

The monkey growled at him.

"Hit- _monkey_. Sorry, my bad. My bad."

The monkey chittered at him, grabbed a quarter-full bottle of bourbon and shook it.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. Knock yourself out. Just keep it quiet, all right? I need my sleep."

 

.04

Last night's show was a bit of a blur, but Stacee figured it had been okay - he'd woken up with no pants on, which was usually a good sign. His head was pounding, which was also a good sign.

"Want me to get that, Mr Jaxx?" one of his bodyguards (the manly one) asked.

Not his head, then. "Yeah. Sure."

Six guys, all of them fully dressed. Well, such were the ways of the world. To some, it was given to wake early and with pants on and to live small, miserable lives - to others, it was given to be Stacee Jaxx, living legend, rock god.

One of his - guests? visitors? said something.

Stacee shook his head. "English?"

"Mr Dreigroschen would like to know what happened to his wife, please?" another one said.

Only in some backwater country like this one, Stacee thought. _Europe._ "Right. _Her._ "

Mr Dreigroschen waved his hands.

"I - " Stacee said. Had this happened last night, he'd have offered a threesome. Foursome. Whatever-some. "She's over there."

Silence. Sweet, _brief_ silence. "That is a monkey."

"Yeah," Stacee said. Hey Man shrieked. "I think you should leave now. _And_ get a divorce. The chemistry ... it's just gone, man. Gone. Like dust in the wind. Poof."

"But - "

Hey Man threw an empty bottle on the floor. Stacee decided to go and take a shower.

 

.05

"No," Paul said. He was a no-man.

Stacee was a yes-man. _Life_ had made him a yes-man. "It's him or me, Paul. So you have a choice here. Him. Or me." _Life_ had turned two people into a pair of dressed up monkeys, putting on a show for an audience that lacked any capability of truly understanding them.

Paul blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"One of us has gotta be free, man. For the other. Him and me, we're brothers."

"Ah," Paul said. "Yes. _Brothers_. How could I miss the family resemblance?"

"You're a man of severely limited vision, Paul," Stacee said. "It's why your job is what your job is."

Paul sighed and got up. "I'll go and have a talk with whoever's in charge of this circus. Don't go anywhere, all right? I'll be back."

 

.01

"Hey man, what's that monkey doing on your shoulder?" someone asked, and Stacee considered smashing the half-empty bottle of bourbon he was still holding in his hand by way of saying: _I just spent ten minutes finding a place to piss, so why don't you fuck off?_.

Then he considered some more and decided that, actually, the bottle was half- _full_ and also, whoever this guy was, he clearly did not have _any_ bottle at all.

"One, I'm not a monkey," he said. "I can talk. Two, I'm not on his shoulder. And three ... three. Do I _know_ you?"

The guy stared at him. Stacee gulped down some more bourbon, noting that his bottle was rapidly approaching a much better rate of smashability.

"I'm _Mick_ ," the guy said.

"Mick." Stacee moved his head so that the room kept still. (There was a trick to it. He'd almost mastered it - _almost_.) "Mick who? Mick Jagger?"

"Mick who's been in your band for the past _five_ years," the guy (Mick?) said. "Asshole."

"That's a really unfortunate last name." Stacee swayed a little. The monkey was messing up his balance a little; they'd need to work on that. "Wow."

The monkey gibbered. Stacee didn't see what _he_ had to gibber about though; it wasn't as if the monkey's name was anywhere near as bad.


End file.
